


Strangers in the Night

by venenated



Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Who
Genre: AU, Clara and Danny are dating, Clara has a thing for soldiers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, More tags will be added as the story progresses, Probably other characters will pop up, and the Doctor's cool with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:30:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3295520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venenated/pseuds/venenated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's post-CATWS and Bucky knows what Hydra did to him, and has pretty much resumed his life, working independently and using his skills as an assassin to take up jobs he wants when they're offered to him. He hasn't wanted to see Steve/Natasha or anyone else, feeling awful about what he has done in the past. He still gets faint PTSD episodes, and has been keeping himself from forming any attachments to anyone for quite a while. </p><p>Clara is travelling with the Doctor, and after the bank robbery the Doctor saw how much she enjoyed sneaking around-spy type stuff. He'll only let her steal things that don't belong to people, to restore them back to their rightful owner, but none the less he lets her indulge in her little fantasies. Danny Pink didn't die, and Clara is still seeing him. </p><p>When the two meet after working a job on the same man, both recognize each other from a very long time ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Theif and an Assassin Walk into a House...

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, so I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> The title may be a little corny? I don't know, I'm so bad with titles. I saw a prompt on tumblr where one person is a thief, the other an assassin or something and immediately thought of Barneswald, so voila! Hope you like it :)

### A Theif and an Assassin Walk into a House...

It had been the stillest night he’d experienced for a while. The usual noise of the city was far away from this part of town and he lay on his stomach waiting, watching. The Asset had been doing this job far too long to be anything more than apathetic to those he had to kill. They’re lives were as insignificant as the case file he’d receive at the beginning of each mission. He’d been staring at the same bungalow for the past 45 minutes and was almost getting fidgety. 

There was sudden movement in the house and his eyes quickly went to the scope of the sniper. A petite woman. His eyebrow raised despite his steely confidence. This girl certainly didn’t match up to the balding man in his late forties on the case file. He was alone on this mission, what with it being supposedly easy, and so with no one to control his actions, he left the roof he had been perched on.

Crossing the quiet road, melting into the darkness of the night, he squatted outside a window, eyes coasting over the scene. The woman was missing, and so he moved to the door, slowly pushing it open.

\--------------------------------

Assigned to be picking up some unknown object, Clara huffed in annoyance to the Doctor on comms. “Why am I doing this again?” 

"Because you get a thrill out of it."

She rolled her eyes, “true.” Moving to the large bedroom, she went through the bedside table, hands fumbling through the items, “what is it meant to look like?” 

"We went over this Clara! It should be a ring in a box, simple as that."

"So not alien?"

"Now why would it be alien?"

"Well, the last thing we stole was a Daleks sticky-outy-exterminator-thingy." 

There was a long, reserved pause, before the Doctors voice came back, “just get the box.”

Clara grinned to herself, before she heard a creek in the floorboards behind her. Whipping around she saw him. Muttering a curse, she stood as tall as she could with a self-assured smirk on her lips. 

Her light British accent rang with a slight edge, the surge of nerves letting down her façade of confidence. "Hello. What brings you here?" 

He stayed silent, and she began moving towards the currently closed window. “No reason? Fair enough.. I’m just visiting.. And now leaving.” 

The gun that had been trailing her dropped, and his lips curled upwards at the English girls terrible attempt at lying. Stepping out of the shadows, they finally saw each other in the same light. 

His blue eyes met her brown, and suddenly neither knew what to do. “C-Connie?” he breathed, not sure what else to say at the sight of his ex-girlfriend from the 40s who was most definitely not 90-something years old.

"Clara," she corrected with a raise of her brow. He had triggered something within her mind, some distant memory covered in fog, refusing to clear. 

Both heads turned at the sound of a car pulling up, and they ducked as the lights of the car lit the room. Bucky felt a rush of anger, the job would have been done if it wasn’t for this woman making an appearance. He beckoned for her to come closer, pressing his back against the wall the door lay on. She met him, a frantic look in her eyes that almost made him feel sorry for her. 

"What are we going to to do?" she mumbled, before he placed a finger on her lips, shushing her. Clara slapped his hand away, distracted from the problem for a second, and he rolled his eyes, hastily whispering, "shush. Now."

Bucky’s target was in the house now, and by the noises it seemed he was going to be busy making himself a cup of tea for a while now. Bucky turned to face Clara, their faces only a few inches apart. He pointed at the her, then the window, before raising his eyebrows as if he were questioning her capability to do it all silently. She nodded, moving to the window she’d wanted to leave before. Pushing it up, the faintest sound seemed like it was coming from a megaphone. Swinging her leg up and over, Clara suddenly realised the strangers motions hadn’t included himself. Turning back to face him, she saw he wasn’t there and as curious as she was, she dropped to the outside ground. 

Pulling the coat close around her, she’d wished she’d hadn’t ignored the Doctor’s advice of warmer clothes. There was a hand on her shoulder and she turned quickly, her fists balled up and in the stance to fight. 

Bucky put his hands up as Clara moved, “woah, woah,” he coaxed, “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

"What happened to you?" she questioned immediately.

"I did my job," he said through gritted teeth. 

"Meaning?" 

"He’s dead."

Clara’s jaw slacked at the thought. She’d just wanted to steal something that wasn’t rightfully his, but this stranger had taken it to a new level. 

"And what were you doing there," he hesitated before using her name, "Clara?"

"Doing a job," she replied with as much iciness. 

"I’m sorry I messed it up for you."

"You didn’t," she said, producing the small box from her pocket, a wicked grin on her lips. She started to walk again, and Bucky could do nothing but watch after her. 

Clara had a quick thought, and before she could regret it, she stopped and turned to him. “I didn't catch _your_ name?” 

"Bucky Barnes, at your service." 

Nodding, she gave a brief smile before continuing walking.


	2. Not a Stranger Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't posted, I suddenly lost a lot of muse, but hey here we are so enjoy :)
> 
> This was going to go a completely different way, but I'm fairly happy with this thought I haven't checked over it all yet, I'm just tired and want to post it *so much dedication*  
> anyway, as i said, enjoy!

"Doctor I knew him somehow," she said for the millionth time, tapping at the TARDIS’s console nervously.

"You’ve said Clara," the Scottish accent came from somewhere on the next floor. 

"And he knew me too! But he called me Connie!" she threw her hands up in frustration.

Emerging from a bookcase, his head stuck in a book, the Doctor spoke absent mindedly, humouring Clara more than anything. "Did he tell you his name?"

"Bucky Barnes."

"What was that?" the Doctor looked away from his book, directly at Clara, "what was the name?"

Her eyebrows rose in alarm, and she spoke hesitantly, “Bucky Barnes…” 

The Doctor jumped down the flight of stairs, suddenly racing his hands to each control, sending the TARDIS whirring and groaning. 

"Doctor, what are you doing?!" Clara exclaimed, holding on as the TARDIS spun.

"I need to show you a thing!" 

The TARDIS landed, and Clara ran to the doors, throwing them open to the sight of the Smithsonian. The Doctor was immediately at her back, pushing her through the doors. His extensive knowledge of almost everything had led him to recognise the name immediately, but he needed to be sure. Taking Clara's hand, he started to lead her around, passing through tour groups and guides. A security guard even asked them to slow down he was rushing her so fast. 

"Doctor, please explain what’s happening," Clara mumbled as she was whisked through random exhibits, concern flashing across her face. She hadn't stopped thinking about the man since that night. She wasn't sure if it was the casual case of murder, or that fabulous chin that had caused her to remember him so well, but Barnes had been playing on her mind. Clara felt she was a terrible flirt most of the time, almost always putting her foot in it before her counter part had even said two words. But she should have tried to give him her number, all though, he didn't seem the type to do that. As she caught herself thinking of flirting with Bucky, her mind immediately flashed to Danny. Clara scolded herself, thinking of someone else like that. Things had been rocky enough with Danny. He had only recently come around to the idea of her seeing the Doctor for travels in time and space, and she couldn't wreck the trust now. 

Eventually arriving at the famous Captain America exhibit, Clara felt his hand on hers, and she was pulled towards a section of the museum. His poor manners led him to push through a bunch of kids on a school trip, and Clara let out a few apologies before she was stopped in front of a display. The Doctor turned to face Clara, blocking her view of the stand. He spoke urgently, his eyes wide, “what I’m about to show you may be confusing Clara, but I need you to tell me,” he moved, letting her see the image and description of James Buchanan Barnes, “is this the man you met?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she moved closer to the enlarged image of the man she had so strangely met two weeks ago. "What?" she breathed out, unable to comprehend the information in front of her. He would be over 90 years old by the museums reckoning. Clara held out her hand, expecting the Doctor to reassure her. He quickly met her hand, "Clara? Was it him?" She turned to face him, nodding quickly, finding it hard to find the right words to say.

"How is he possible?"

"Why Clara," the Doctor began, looking her straight in the eye with a raised eyebrow, "since when were you the judge of what is impossible and possible?"

She gave into a smile for half a second, but her eyes were still panicked. 

"Hey, maybe you'd two would be good together, y'know, two impossibilities that make each other impossible."

"Doctor!" Clara snapped, "you were just starting to help, and then you go and say that."

"Oh yeah, the PE teacher-"

"Maths."

"Whatever."

"So how..?" 

The Doctor began hesitantly, treading lightly around the topic, "I don't think I should be the one who tells you the story Clara. But you need to know that you've heard of him before. Just not this version of him."

"Enough with the riddles, Doctor, just tell me."

"Remember what happened in Washington D.C. a while back? Captain America went missing, the helicarriers exploding... all of that?"

"Yes..." she began, layers of fog starting to come away and clear her mind.

"And the Winter Soldier? You remember him?"

Her jaw dropped, and Clara believed she had solved the puzzle in her mind. But there was still something twinging, still something slightly out of place. She looked at the Doctor, her eyebrows still knitted, and said with a hint of worry, "that's not it, is it?" The Doctor pulled her away again, taking her to the display of home photos of The Howling Commandos. All the family gathering and celebratory photos had been displayed here, and it was a loving tribute to the men that had served until the end of the line. It was fairly left out of the main exhibit, people wondering past it, hoping to see Captain America's costume instead of the personal lives of the men who had helped him so readily. Once again the Doctor stopped her investigating alone. He pointed to a photo. "See?" 

Clara squinted through the glass, and recognized herself, hand in hand with none other than Barnes. She had a forties style dress on, pinned up hair and a wide smile on her face. He was looking rather dashing in his uniform, the hat tilted just so, and she found herself appreciating the picture far more than she anticipated before realising the gravity of the situation. "Bloody hell..." she whispered, and the Doctor tutted. "Language." 

"But I haven't..."

"No."

"An echo?"

"Bingo." 

Another Clara dotted across time and space. She finally understood his previously bizarre actions. Why he had called her Connie and acted as if he had seen a ghost upon first looking at her. Muttering another curse to the Doctor's annoyance, she looked up, chewing at her lip. The Doctor watched her carefully, as if he was measuring her actions to test if he could predict the results. Finally, Clara made her mind up, and looking to the time traveller, she folded her arms and said:

"We have to find him."


End file.
